


Coming Home

by bella8876



Series: 30 days of Sterek drabbles [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:30:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bella8876/pseuds/bella8876
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seemed to hit both of them in that moment that Stiles was home now, for good this time.  There’d be no more rushed weekends, no more bittersweet holidays, no more dreading September.  School was over, Stiles was home.  For Good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is story 1 of the 30 drabbles in 30 days challenge that I made for myself. 
> 
> The prompt for this story was the line: 
> 
> “When was the last time anyone cleaned the bathroom?”

Derek rolled over and reached out for Stiles only to find his side of the bed cold and empty. Normally that wouldn’t be cause for alarm, with Stiles away at school for the past four years, Derek had gotten used to his side of the bed being empty more than it was occupied. Except he distinctly remembered falling asleep just a few hours ago, his body exhausted after a very enthusiastic welcome home, his nose tucked behind Stiles’s ear, and their legs tangled together lazily. 

Derek grunted and dragged himself out bed. He closed his eyes and listened for the sound of a familiar heartbeat and followed it down the stairs and toward the kitchen, walking carefully not to trip over the small random piles of Stiles’s things. Most of his stuff had been put up already but there were still a few things that had yet to find their way to a permanent location. 

The process of Stiles moving in had been going on for the past four years. When he came home for breaks he’d split his time between his dad’s house and Derek’s and things would inevitably get left behind, but his dad’s house had always technically been home. Then over Christmas break, Stiles and Scott had spent one last night in Stiles’s childhood room, eating junk food and playing video games, before packing everything up and driving it over to Derek’s. That had been the first step, the first acknowledgement that when Stiles came home this time, he was planning coming home to Derek. 

When Stiles came back for Spring Break, the Jeep had been packed with everything he could fit from his apartment at Stanford. Derek and the Sheriff brought back whatever was left when they went down for Stiles’s graduation, so when he’d walked in the house the day before all Stiles had to bring home was an oversized duffel bag with about three months worth of dirty clothes stuffed inside. 

Derek managed to side step the pile of Stiles’s books at the foot of the stairs that had yet to be integrated into Derek’s collection, and almost tripped over the giant pile of dirty clothes outside the laundry room before he finally got to the kitchen and froze in his tracks. 

“Stiles?” Derek asked incredulously, startling Stiles who swore loudly, smacking his head as he scrambled to pull his head out of the freezer. He dropped the wet rag in his hand into the bucket of steaming soapy water at his feet and smiled.

“Hey Derek, what are you doing up?” Stiles asked sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. 

“What am I doing up?” Derek asked and looked around the kitchen. “What are you doing up?” The entire contents of the pantry had been emptied out and were now scattered over the counter tops, the center island, and most of the floor. The sink was full of ice and Derek could see a few tubs of ice cream and some frozen chicken buried under it.

“I know it looks bad,” Stiles started, moving closer to Derek and tripping over a couple of boxes of pasta. Derek reached out to steady him and Stiles smiled. “I woke up and I was thirsty, so I came down to get a bottle of water, but then I got distracted by the pantry.” Stiles motioned behind him. “It was all…” he flailed his arms around wildly. “So I was just gonna organize it really quick, but then I remembered that I was thirsty and went to get some ice for the water and there was this weird sticky stuff all over the freezer.” The last part was said in an almost accusatory tone. 

Derek nodded. “Isaac put a can of soda in there and forgot about it. It kind of exploded.” 

“And instead of cleaning it up you thought you’d just let it to congeal into a frozen sticky mess?” Stiles asked and Derek smiled. To be honest it had been driving him insane. Every time he’d gone into the freezer for the past two weeks all he wanted to do was wipe the whole thing down. But he’d left it. For Stiles. 

 

Stiles almost didn’t go to Stanford. Between his grades and SAT score, not to mention the personal essay he’d written about how the death of his mother had shaped him in ways he was still figuring out, it was a no brainer that he’d get in. And when the scholarship had come through, four years full ride, the only person who’d been surprised had been Stiles himself. But he was scared. Scared to leave his dad, scared to leave the pack. 

Lydia was off to MIT two days after graduation without even a backwards glance to spare for Beacon Hills or the pack, but then Lydia was always going to leave; after Jackson it really had only been a matter of when. But Scott and Isaac were going to the community college about 30 minutes away and Boyd was forgoing higher education all together to stay in town and apprentice for a local carpenter. So for Stiles the idea of going to college over 400 miles away had been daunting. 

What if something happened to his dad? What if something happened to the pack? Who was gonna make pancakes for Isaac on Saturday mornings? Who was gonna make sure his dad was eating his vegetables? Who was gonna go grocery shopping and make sure Scott didn’t overstuff the dishwasher and that Derek didn’t just throw all the laundry in the washing machine without sorting the colors?

They assured him that they could take care of themselves while he was gone. That 400 miles wasn’t that far, just a six hour drive. They’d come visit him, he could even come home on weekends if he wanted to. They insisted he couldn’t pass up the opportunity, a four year full ride, his dad had pointed out, unable to keep the pride from his voice. But the icing on the cake had been the idea of going to the same school his mom had gone to, walking the same streets, possibly sitting in the same classroom. 

Derek still remembers the day Stiles had called him, four days into the second semester of his third year, crying and laughing at the same time on the verge of a panic attack because he’d walked into his Celtic Folklore and Mythology class and sat down at desk with E. Lahr carved in the wood. Derek had driven up there that night and they’d snuck into the building, Stiles tracing the letters of his mother’s name over and over as he told Derek stories about her, stories he’d never been able to share before. Derek had offered to steal it for him when they’d gone up for graduation but Stiles declined, liking that there was a part of her that would always be there.

Thanksgiving break his freshman year, Derek had been determined to show Stiles that they could survive without him. He had the entire pack scrub the house clean from top to bottom. He went over to Stiles’s dad’s house and threw out all the TV dinners from the freezer then went to the grocery store and dropped almost $300 on fresh fruits and vegetables. He brought four bags of dirty clothes to the dry cleaners and had them all cleaned and pressed. And when Stiles got home that first night, dinner was already fixed and waiting on the table for him. 

But rather than the excited response Derek had been hoping to elicit from Stiles when he saw how well they got along without him, it had the opposite effect. Stiles spent the entire weekend awkwardly detached from everyone else. Then Saturday morning rolled around and he walked into the kitchen at the Hale house to find Isaac, Scott, and Boyd all arguing while Derek burned yet another batch of pancakes at the stove and Isaac turned to him, a desperate look on his face and just said, “Please.” 

Stiles nodded almost hesitantly but pushed Derek out of the way, rolled up his sleeves and started from scratch. Derek watched intently, he’d been trying for weeks to figure out how to make pancakes that tasted like Stiles’s. According to Isaac he’d had very little success, which he didn’t understand because Stiles used a box mix. When Isaac took his first bite and moaned out, “God I’ve missed these,” Stiles’s face split into a huge grin, and Derek finally got it. 

He hadn’t been afraid they wouldn’t be able live without him, he’d been afraid they would. And Derek had basically proven him right. From then on, Derek made sure that when Stiles came home from school on breaks, it was painfully obvious how much they missed his presence. 

Derek was by no means a slob, but he made it a point to stop picking up after himself about a week before Stiles was supposed to get home. And even though he grumbled under his breath as he walked through the house picking up shoes and books and putting everything away, he did it with a soft smile. While Stiles was at school, Derek made sure to drop by the Sheriff’s office and make sure he wasn’t eating burgers and fries every night for dinner. But he also made sure there were a few frozen meals in the Sheriff’s freezer, because there were very few things that made Stiles happier than scolding his dad about bad eating habits. 

So when the soda exploded in the freezer, Derek had left it for Stiles out of habit because he forgot he didn’t have to do that anymore. They didn’t have to pretend they couldn’t live without him, because they wouldn’t have to actually live without him anymore. 

“Come back to bed,” Derek said, grabbing Stiles’s hand and pulling him back up the stairs and into the bedroom. 

“But the kitchen—“ Stiles tried to go back but Derek kept his grip firm. 

“Leave it for the morning,” Derek said. “You’ve got time.” 

And it seemed to hit both of them in that moment that Stiles was home now, for good this time. There’d be no more rushed weekends, no more bittersweet holidays, no more dreading September. School was over, Stiles was home. For Good. Derek smiled again at the thought and the part of him that had been tense and half convinced this day would never come, loosened.

“You’ve got time,” Derek repeated, pulling Stiles down to the mattress with him and dropping a soft kiss to the corner of Stiles’s lips. 

“Yeah,” Stiles smiled softly, sliding his fingers into Derek’s hair and pulling him closer. “I do.” 

A few hours later Derek woke up again when he felt Stiles shift away from him and roll off the bed and pad down the hall to the bathroom. He peed, washed his hands then walked back into the room and climbed in the bed with huff, burrowing up next to Derek. 

“When was the last time anyone cleaned the bathroom?” Stiles asked into Derek’s neck. “Cause seriously, that’s just disgusting.” Derek smiled softly. He may have let the bathroom get a bit too bad before Stiles came home. “Now that I’m home you guys are gonna have to start pulling your weight. Honestly I don’t know how you managed to survive for four years without me.”


End file.
